


far from any road

by fluorexcence



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/M, im so sad for them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 09:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18496183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluorexcence/pseuds/fluorexcence
Summary: it's not a penthouse, but they still get lucky





	far from any road

The drive is long and dusty from the city to the outskirts of some godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere. Olivia doesn’t mind, Jacques is good company and alternates between telling brilliant stories that make her cry with laughter, and various lessons and information about VFD and their noble purpose. 

It’s her purpose now too, and she’ll do it gladly, brave any danger so long as she could be at his side. He has a natural charm, a magnetism that draws people to him. When he speaks, the strength of his convictions shines through. He could sway minds and hearts alike. 

She wonders if it’s fate that they met. Then, he catches her eye and grins, boyish and sweet and her heart _soars_. She turns, looking out the window to hide her blush. The scenery flashes past as they drive, a solemn tableau of midnight blue and inky black. The moon is swollen and full in the sky, the lack of city lights showcasing the brilliant scattering of stars. 

“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, half to herself. 

“It certainly is,” he agrees. “We’ve made good progress. There’s a motel just ahead where we can sleep tonight, start fresh in the morning. Sound good?”

She hums her approval, and he reaches over to squeeze her knee. His eyes never leave the road, and his hand remains, radiating warmth. Her blush deepens. 

The motel is almost picturesque in its rundown, americana way. The sign is half illuminated, the O flickering weakly. There’s a few cars parked out front, other weary travelers who have stopped on their way to a real place, but it is mostly empty. The smell of cigarette smoke hangs in the heavy summer night air as they grab their few things from the car. 

The man at the reception desk eyes them suspiciously as Jacques arranges a room. 

“That your wife?” he asks, nodding towards Olivia. She opens her mouth to correct him, but isn’t given the chance.

“Yes,” Jacques responds without missing a beat. “We’re just passing through.” 

Satisfied with this answer, the man quickly loses interest and waves them off. 

“Wife?” Olivia asks, playfully nudging Jacques with her shoulder. 

“Folk around here tend to be conservative. I figured it’d be best to err on the side of caution,” he replies smoothly, unlocking the room door. “After you, Mrs. Snicket.”

Olivia can’t help but laugh, ducking under his arm to enter. The room is a bit stuffy but clean enough. Jacques, ever the gentleman, insists she shower first and she gratefully washes off the dust of the road. Her hair is wet about her shoulders, soaking into the material of the oversized shirt she is using in lieu of a proper nightgown. She sits at the edge of the bed, running a comb through her hair when Jacques emerges in pants and nothing else. 

She tries valiantly not to stare.

He rubs a towel through his wet hair, and it falls in front of his face. He looks younger, less put together and he shoots her a boyish smile. 

“I’ll take the couch, of course,” he says, gesturing to the lumpy sofa in the corner of the room. 

“Nonsense,” she says easily. “We’ll share. I need you well-rested. For the mission, of course.”

“Of course,” he echoes. He rummages through their bags, producing a flask. He drinks deeply from it, then offers it to her. She sniffs it, nose wrinkling at the strong smell of alcohol, but nevertheless brings it to her lips to drink. It’s strong and burns down her throat, making her cough. 

He sits next to her, the bed dipping with his weight, and runs a soothing hand down her back. She hands the flask to him, unconsciously leaning into him. 

The night creeps up slowly, the hours stretched and twisted into something longer and darker. Somehow, they migrate upwards so they’re laying side by side, propped against the hard headboard of the bed. The flask is passed between them as they talk in low tones. Olivia feels pleasantly tipsy, like she’s somehow outside herself. She rests her head on Jacques’ bare shoulder, closing her eyes as she listens to him talk. She is certain she could listen to him for hours. 

“It’s late,” he says softly. She nods, but neither move. Tentatively, she reaches a hand out, cupping his sharp jaw and turning him to face her. His hand covers her wrist, holding her to him, his eyes on her parted lips. There is a beat of silence and stillness, and then the distance between them fades to nothing as his lips press to hers. 

He pulls her into his lap so she’s straddling him, his hands firm on her waist as he peppers open-mouthed kisses to her jaw, down her neck, to her flushed collarbones. Her fingers tangle in his hair, steadying herself as their lips meet. He kisses her deeply, almost desperately, trying to convey everything left unsaid between them. 

He flips them over, his hands trailing down her body to the hem of the shirt, lifting it over her head. He pulls back to look at her, his eyes dark and hair mussed. 

“God, Olivia. You’re beautiful,” he says, almost reverently. She blushes prettily, pulling him back down to her. He kisses his way down until he reaches the waistband of her underwear, and then those are gone and his head is between her legs. She gasps as he laps at her cunt, his fingers pressing into the soft skin of her thighs as he holds her still. Her hands tangle in his hair as she bucks against his mouth, urging him on. 

He smiles as she writhes against his fingers, stroking her until she’s coming with a sharp cry. She all but yanks him upwards, fitting her mouth to his in a desperate kiss. She can feel his desire, his cock stiff against her stomach and she cannot wait one minute longer. 

“Jacques, please. I want you,” she says, soft and breathy. 

He presses a sweet, chaste kiss to her lips, spreading her legs as he settles between them. “You have me, I’m here,” he reassures, and then he’s inside her with one smooth roll of his hips. Olivia gasps, arching up into him as he sets a deep, fast pace. He cradles her to his body, needing to be as close as possible. 

She didn’t know such pleasure was possible, didn’t know her heart could feel this much. Her arms loop around his shoulders, broad and strong and she’s so in love. 

He reaches a hand between their bodies, stroking at her swollen clit in time to his thrusts. “Come for me, love,” he murmurs, and her body obeys, shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over her. 

She grabs his face between her hands, kissing him fiercely before pulling back to rest her forehead against his. “I love you,” she says, meeting his dark gaze. 

His grip on her waist tightens, and he tenderly traces her cheekbone with his thumb, cradling her face as he pushes inside her, deep and slow. “Tell me again, Olivia, my love,” he says, kissing her parted lips. 

“I love you, I love you, oh god, I love you,” she cries, overwhelmed with pleasure and love and she never wants to be parted from him. He moans low and deep as he comes, pressing his face into her neck. 

He pulls back, touching her face with an aching gentleness, kissing away the tears on her cheek. “I love you,” he says, whispering the words against her lips. It’s so intimate, so lovely and Olivia has never felt such a complete sense of belonging. 

"I love you."

\--

Later, they are curled around each other in a tangle of limbs, dusty moonlight filtering through the gap in the ghastly motel curtains. Olivia sighs happily, pressing herself closer to his side, Jacques’ arm strong and comforting around her. She takes his hand in hers, examining his palm closely. 

“Well, my love? What do you see?” 

Her nose is scrunched up in concentration, and he laughs, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. She laughs as he kisses her neck, playfully batting him away. “Don’t distract me!”

He grins. “My deepest apologies. So, tell me. Marriage?”

“Of course,” she answers, kissing his chest. 

“And children?”

“Yes,” she says, a smile in her voice. “Two, I think.”

He frowns, mock-concern etched into his face. “Are you sure it’s not three?” 

She hums thoughtfully, tracing the lines on his palm before linking their fingers together. “You’re right, my mistake. Three.”

He brings their joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her hand. Olivia settles back into the crook of his arm, resting her head on his chest. 

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he whispers, so soft it’s almost lost to the night. “You, in my arms.”

Olivia nods, holding him tighter. She thinks of their future together, bright and promising, and her heart aches with love for him. 

—

Jacques Snicket is an inspiring, confident, honorable man. 

The end comes anyways. She wishes they stayed in that motel.

**Author's Note:**

> didn't expect to love these two so much 
> 
> let me know what you think lads!


End file.
